Showing posts from December, 2012


It was the howling wind outside that most closely echoed what was going on inside.  I didn't know it then, but it was a soul crying out for the rest of the body to come away from the slumber.  It had been years since I practiced words on page, and even then it was for my mother.  She would ask for poems for Christmas and her birthday and I would do that for her, eyes rolling, because even my worst coming togethers were her joy on page.
A year ago then, I gathered myself and a great bit of courage to begin a blog.   I stepped right out into this arena of being known in the most intimate sense.  My words, they are not empty.  They are these tender bits and pieces of who I am, what I feel.  To read these is to know the good and the bad of me.  To be known by the flaws and mistakes, the pain, the very aches that bring me to my knees is nothing less than fear.
It may seem a bit of crazy to bare the sacred soul.  It certainly feels that way at times.  My husband, a solid form of patie…

The night still

The night so ordinary, still The quiet sheep did have their fill Beneath the stars the shepherds lay The town of David not far away
When suddenly a glorious light Broke through the dark, removed the night The terrifying sight did see By lowly shepherds on bended knee
And as the beings offered praise As if they'd sung this all their days The silent shepherds heard their song As more did join to sing along

Glory to our God on high! His son, just born, has come to die Wrapped with cloth in manger lay The prophesies of old did say
Beneath that mysterious star was found A tiny one they gathered round With awe and adoration speak Of Savior that they all did seek
And remember we that Holy night Imagining holds amazing sight As we come to worship him With heads bent low and lights so dim
And shall we sing the angel tune A glorious song in brightest moon To share with those in darkness now Good news to hearts that will allow?
Glory to our God Most High He sent his son that he should die …

Awake my soul

Awake my slumbered, weary soul
Arise to beauty's song
Hear the tender calling out
Come now, fall along
Wipe the eyes of mournful bidding
Turn blessed face into the sky
Raise an open hand, expecting
Voice to reach the One on high.
He is great with arms extended
Gentle in their wholeness prove
Comforter still hold me nearer
That my troubled heart may soothe

We mourn

The mother's arms are barren ache
Her child's bed lies cold
She looks inside the empty room
With no one there to hold
Belief of death denies her firm
She wrestles all this truth
No cradled love in child form
Her empty arms cruel proof
How can the world spin right around
while hearts have ceased to sing?
How can tomorrow truly come
after feeling death's great sting?
Should all the earth fall swift away
It would matter not to her
A child is a mother's world
and for death there is no cure.

The give and take of gifts

I thought of it as we were standing around its circle placing memories into evergreen hands outstretched.  The lights flickered bright and we were warm with the happiness of it all.  The excitement on the faces four reached right into me, and what I felt was unworthy thankfulness.

Here, this moment found us under black skies with a stray ordinary star and they were side by side by side by side.  It caught in my throat, the ache of what these moments would be if one of these gifts was not present.  And it's not so hard to realize that we are only one tragedy away from being broken into pieces.  But for the grace of God. . .

Those families that are missing one this year?  Do they thank God for amazing grace?  Can they find goodness in a God who's hand is in their brokenness and continue to say all is well with my soul?

I look at them and hold their precious hands.  If God should take them all away, would they be any less of a gift?  Would I be faithful to praise a God who gives…